I Couldn't Save Him
by NerdAngel
Summary: Dean's POV takes place between part 1 and part 2 of "All Hell Breaks Loose" season 2.


**A/n: Some time ago I wrote a one shot of which is probably my favorite short I have written so far called "A Way Back to Then." It took place during the season 9 finale and was a Sam POV. This one is along similar lines, but a Dean POV. It takes place between the end of "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1" and "Part 2" in season 2.**

 **Thank you to anyone who takes a minute to read this or review it. Thank you LilyBolt and miXiZ for your support thus far.**

He needed warmth.

It was my first thought the moment I felt his body temperature start to drop as I held him to me. On my knees, I rocked my little brother gently back and forth as though I was simply lolling him into an easy sleep. But for all the warmth I had and all that I could give and the tears of grief, blame, and agony that I allowed to fall from my eyes, it didn't matter. He wasn't chilly, he was dead. This wasn't a movie. My tears and sorrow meant jack squat, and they certainly weren't going to somehow bring back Sammy through the power of love. Shit doesn't happen like that, not in the real world. Not in the world where magic ACTUALLY existed and so did monster's that would eat a person or drink them dry without so much as a blink of an eye. Evil was real but happy endings, well, that wasn't a thing; especially if you were a Winchester. But even though I knew it wouldn't help, I refused to let go. I hugged him close to me, even though I knew he wouldn't hug back. At least holding him, I felt as though he was safe. He was always safe with me. Except he hadn't been, had he? Who's fault was it that Sam was laying in my arms slumped over with a fatal knife wound? Who lost their kid brother? Who hadn't been there for him when he needed me most? Who's hands were literally covered in his blood?

As I kneeled in the mud that had soaked through my jeans and now my skin, I was reminded of the first time I had lost Sam.

He had been no older than five and I had taken him to some playground close by the crappy motel Dad had dumped us off at. Of course before he left, he gave me the whole "shoot first ask questions later," "if you need help, call Pastor Jim, Caleb, or Bobby," and of course "watch out for Sammy" spiel like he always did. Like I needed to be told any of that, especially the last one.

Sammy had taken to climbing up the ladder and sliding down the slide, just to do it all again. I had been sitting on a bench watching him play when nature called. I had only been gone for a few seconds, but that was all it took. As I re-approached the playground, I noticed something was missing. Sam wasn't coming down the slide and he hadn't been climbing the ladder either. He hadn't been on the monkey bars, which I had been grateful for. Believe it or not, there was a time when he wasn't a sasquatch and his little arms couldn't reach the bars without my help. He hadn't been swinging on the swings, they had been occupied by two older girls and another another younger one.

"Sam?" I called out. He hadn't answered. My eyes had darted all around the park frantically looking for my little brother. I remember my brain going into mush as fear took over me. Dad had apprised me before, it had been why he hated it when I would take him out.

"Be careful Dean." He would warn.

"Yes sir, I know."

"I don't mean just monsters son. There are," he had paused. I remember a pensive look on his face and how whatever it was he was going to tell me, was not something to take lightly. "Not everyone is as honest and kind as us or Bobby or Pastor Jim, Dean. If anyone ever makes you uncomfortable or feel unsafe, grab Sammy and call 911. Stay around people, don't go off alone. You understand me?" I had nodded my head.

"Yes sir."

I had understood what Dad warned me of, but never thought I would have to actually worry about it. I never let Sam out of my sight and he knew better than to take off with anyone that wasn't Dad, Bobby, or I.

"Sammy!" Finally, I saw him. I tore off in his direction, relief easing into me but fear still pushing me to move. I had come to a stop next to him. "What the hell were you thinking, running off like that?!" Anger had seeped into my tone without me even meaning for it to. "You-Sammy...what's wrong? Are you hurt?" My voice had softened. He was kneeling on the ground by the street, his shoulders sagged and heaving and his head bowed. My brother had shook his head, but he still wouldn't speak, he just pointed a shaky little finger towards the middle of the road. My eyes had followed it to a cat laying in a heap. It's eyes were open, blood had matted his black fur, and it's back right leg was at an unnatural angle. The broken cat would have been devastating for any kid, and Sam had always had a kind heart towards both people and animals. I had already seen my fair share of death, but Sammy, well, he had only seen it on tv. Except for our mom, but he had been only six months old at the time and had no recollection of that night at all. The same couldn't be said for me.

"I-I couldn't...I couldn't save him Dean," he had sobbed into his knees as he hugged them to his face.

"Sammy-"

"I saw him Dean and the car, it just-it-it didn't stop," he had continued with a sniff. I remember my heart sinking. Sam hadn't just found the dead animal, he had witnessed its death. I had sighed and sat next to my brother, placing a comforting arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer to me. He had pulled his head from his knees and instead burrowed his face into my shoulder. I remember feeling my shirt dampen with his big crocodile tears. I remember wishing I could have traded places with him, that it had been me who witnessed the death or at the very least that he hadn't seen it. Maybe if I hadn't left him alone even for those few seconds, I could have spared my brother this tragedy. Sammy was just a kid, a sweet, big hearted, and innocent, little snot nose kid. It hadn't been fair. I had hugged him closer, my eyes on the cat.

"It's alright Sammy, you couldn't have saved him."

"You don't known that," he had mumbled into my shirt.

"Sure I do," I had convinced him. "What were you going to do? Run out in front of the car? Call out to it?"

Sam pulled his face from me and shrugged as he dragged the sleeve of his jacket across his runny nose.

"N-no," he had answered. "But-but..."

"There's nothing you could have done Sammy," I had repeated.

"But what if...What if he had been someone's pet? They'll miss him so much. They'll be so sad." That was my Sammy, always thinking of the emotional state of others, even when he had been only five.

"Yeah, they will be sad," I had agreed "but we don't even know that it had a home."

"But...someone will be sad. His mommy or daddy or brother," he had cried. I hadn't known what to say to that, so instead I had coaxed him to get to his feet and with his hand in mine, I had led him back to the motel.

My brother wasn't a cat. He hadn't been hit by a careless driver, but he, like the cat, had been murdered. Like that animal who had been left broken on the street, the murderer had left my brother to die and hadn't thought about whether or not his victim had had a family. He hadn't cared if he would be missed or someone would be sad. I guess not many think of these things, but then not many had a heart like Sammy. And I had been the witness. It had happened right before my eyes. It had been my fault he was gone. I should have done something. I shouldn't have let him go into the diner alone last night. I should have drove faster once Bobby figured out where Sam was. I should have shot the bastard when I saw him sneak up behind my brother right then and there. I should have tried harder. What did calling out to him do? Nothing. Nothing but get him killed. Stabbed in the back literally right in front of me. I had seen the light that filled my brother's hazel eyes, slowly flicker out like a candle losing a battle against the wind, then close for good. His mouth hung open slightly as though he had wanted to say something, maybe call out to me. I wish it had been me, I wish I could have thrown him to the ground and let that sick son of a bitch plunge that knife into me. Then Sammy would be ok, he would be safe, Bobby would have made sure of it.

Guilt expanded throughout my heart and quickly consumed me entirely.

 _I'm so sorry I couldn't save you Sammy._


End file.
